


Up With the Sun

by Angel Ascending (angel_in_ink)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Also Watchmaster Bryce because us non-binary folk gotta stick together, Gen, Introspection, It All Ends Well, Many mentions of hummingbirds, One dubious muffin, The rest of the group has minor parts, character study mostly, just a touch of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 06:18:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13698576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_in_ink/pseuds/Angel%20Ascending
Summary: Jester had always been the type of person who rose with the sun, the nervous energy in her blood and bones refusing to let her do otherwise. She shifted her weight, trying to get up, but Nott made a sleepy, protesting sound and clung a little more tightly to her leg.“Nott,” Jester whispered softly. “Nott I need that leg. I have many things to do and it would be easier if I had two legs to do them with.”





	Up With the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of those fics that started out as one thing and ended up as something almost completely different, which I have a feeling may be typical of near anything I put Jester in, little agent of chaos she is. ^_^
> 
> Takes place the morning after the gnoll fight in Alfield.

Jester had always been the type of person who rose with the sun, the nervous energy in her blood and bones refusing to let her do otherwise. Even this morning, when they had been fighting gnolls the night before, Jester woke up before everyone else, awake and alert the instant she opened her eyes. They had pushed the beds together the night before, since the beds were nearly touching anyway, and Jester found herself technically sprawled across three beds, her head on Fjord’s chest and Nott curled up near her feet, one small arm wrapped around her leg.

Jester listened to Fjord’s heart, the deep steady rhythm of it nearly as good as the sound of the ocean. Fjord smelled like smoke, they all did today, but he also smelled like the sea, which made her feel a little homesick. He felt solid underneath her, which meant if he was turning into water he was doing it _very_ slowly. She hoped he wasn’t turning into water, she didn’t think she had a jar big enough to catch him in if he did. She shifted her weight, trying to get up, but Nott made a sleepy, protesting sound and clung a little more tightly to her leg.

“Nott,” Jester whispered softly. “Nott I need that leg. I have many things to do and it would be easier if I had two legs to do them with.” She reached down, gently untangling the goblin girl, who immediately rolled over and clutched at Caleb’s coat. Even in her sleep Nott had grabby hands.

Thankfully the beds were just mattresses on bare frames, no headboards or footboards to speak of, so it was easy to crawl off the end of her bed. Standing up, she saw that Caleb was sleeping at the very edge of his bed, curled up as tight as a snail in its shell. Jester was starting to think that maybe the Traveler had put Caleb in her path to test her, and she would consider it a triumph if she ever got him to smile. The man frowned nearly constantly, even in his sleep his brow was creased with lines of worry, as if his dreams troubled him. She wanted to take her thumb and rub those lines away, but then he’d wake up and Nott would wake up, and that would wake up Fjord and then _Beau_ would wake up and everyone would be cranky, and then she’d have to work twice as hard to make everyone smile later. No, she’d let him sleep.

Jester smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress, which smelled like smoke. Everything smelled like smoke. She rummaged though her bag until she found her sketchbook and her drawing pencil, sat down leaning against the wall, and went to work. She drew Beau first, remembering how excited the monk had been when she had recounted the tale of how she had kicked some serious gnoll ass. She drew Beau catching an arrow, because that had been Jester’s favorite part, and looked over at the sleeping monk to get the placement of the bruises just right, because the bruises were important to Beau, Jester could tell. Beau was sleeping on the floor, one hand loosely gripped around her staff. There were some new bruises on her knuckles, and some of her older bruises had gone a yellowish green.

Jester drew herself next, smashing gnolls with a giant lollipop. It was a good shape for a weapon, at least she thought so. Destroying something awful with something good only made sense. She drew some fire too, sharp flames with jagged, pointy edges. There had been so much fire, so much heat all around, so many arrows. She had been so scared.

Jester’s mind grew quiet as she drew, and it was nice, the quiet. Later her thoughts would be all over the place, that was just how she was, but the quiet was part of her too. In the quiet she thought about the magic she would need for what she’d be doing later, felt the spells slide from the back of her mind to what she thought of as the front, where they could be used. And as always, in the quiet, she spoke to the Traveler. Not that she didn’t talk to him all the time out loud, especially if something really cool was happening that she thought he should see, but it was the difference between talking and shouting, and no one wanted to be shouted at all the time. She thanked him for the new power she had been given recently, and for all the healing magic, though she wished that she didn’t have to heal her new friends so _often._

Jester found herself idly rubbing the place where the arrow had pierced her last night, and shook her head. Quiet time was done. Now was the time for action! Also the time to find out where Molly had gotten to, because she had just noticed that he wasn’t asleep on the bit of floor where he had tossed his things last night. She put her sketchbook away, pulled on her boots, slung her bag over her shoulder, and headed downstairs.

The smell of bread greeted her when as she left her room, and stepped lightly down the stairs. She heard noises from what she presumed was the kitchen and she might investigate the possibilities there in a moment, but first she went over and sat down at the table across from Molly, who seemed to be fast asleep, head pillowed in the crook of his arm, half a glass of something green still clutched in his hand. When she reached out and tried to tug the glass from his grip his fingers tightened ever so slightly and he mumbled something unintelligible.

“Good morning, Molly!” Jester said loudly.

Molly winced and opened his eyes. “Is it? I mean morning, though I believe the jury may also be out on whether it is good or not.” He straightened up, stretching, his back and neck making little crackles and pops as he did so. Jester could see the brand new scar on his chest where the arrow had pierced him last night, shiny and pale.

“Well, we are all still alive, so yes, I would say it is a very good morning!” Jester said with a smile. She expected a laugh out of that, a chuckle at least. What she got was a half smile and a sigh.

“Fair enough,” Molly said. “We are all here and in one piece, and that calls for a drink, I do believe.” He pushed his half a glass of whatever it was towards her.

Jester picked up the glass and smelled it, wrinkling her nose. “Smells like medicine.”

“That it does,” Molly said in agreement. His smile was a touch wider now, maybe his smile had just needed time to wake up. “It tastes like licorice though. You might like it. I had some fantastic dreams after a glass or two, which was nice for a change. At least, I think they were dreams.”

Jester took a generous swig of the stuff, rolling it around in her mouth for a second or two in consideration before swallowing. “Needs sugar,” she declared finally.

Molly laughed as he took the glass back from her. “You _would_ think that,” he said, draining the rest of the contents of the glass. “I swear you’re like a hummingbird.”

“I don’t know what that is! Tell me! Is it a good thing to be like?” Jester leaned forward, excited as always to learn something new.

“Hummingbirds are these very small, very fast birds that hum when they fly.” Molly said, holding his thumb and forefinger an inch or two apart to show just how small. “They are full of energy, drink nectar from flowers, and they look like little flying bits of rainbow. It’s nearly impossible to be sad while looking at one, so I say that is a very good thing to be like.”

Jester bounced a little in her chair. “I want to see one! Maybe Caleb can turn Frumpkin into a hummingbird next, instead of a cat again!”

“You should ask him about it at breakfast,” Molly said with a grin. “So why _are_ you up so early? Up to mischief already?”

Jester felt her smile falter as she leaned back in her chair. “My heart is too heavy for mischief,” she said, and then she groaned. “Uggggh, that sounded so _dramatic_.”

“It did a little,” Molly said. “But I understand. With all this going on…“ He gestured vaguely in a circle, trailing off.

“I told Watchmaster Bryce that I would help, you know, with healing people,” Jester said. “But it’s not… it’s not going to be enough, you know? I’m _the_ healer now, Beau said. And I can’t heal everyone.” She hadn’t realized that this had been something that was weighing on her until just now, but now that she had said it she couldn’t _not_ think about it. Her hands were twisted together on the table, knuckles an even paler blue with how tightly her hands were clasped, as if in prayer, except she didn’t pray that way. As she watched, Molly put his hands over her own. Jester stared at them. Even his hands had scars on them, faint little lavender lines.

“Jester. Look at me for a second?” Molly’s voice was gentle.

Jester felt that if she looked at him she was going to do something completely embarrassing, like cry. Her emotions ran close to the surface, and that was as much a thing about her as racing thoughts. She’d look at him anyway, and if she cried, well, she cried.

“There we go,” Molly said, looking into her eyes. “Listen. No one is expecting you to heal everyone. Just do what you can, whatever that is. Do what you can, and do it the _best_ you can, and that will be enough. Battle, healing, helping one person or a thousand or just our merry little band of impulsive idiots, myself very much included in that description, that’s all _anyone_ can ask of you. All right?”

Jester nodded, and Molly squeezed her hands briefly before letting go.

“Good. Now, you go do what you need to do, and I’ll go do what _I_ need to do, which is to get a few more hours sleep,” Molly said with a yawn, getting up. “I’m going to steal your spot on the bed, I do believe. And I’ll save you some pastry if you’re not back before breakfast, assuming pastry is available.”

“Muffins are also acceptable,” Jester said, and found that her smile had come back. “Thank you. For the talk, I mean. You are very good at that.”

“Just one of my many skills,” Molly said, bowing with a flourish, and he headed up the stairs.

Jester waited until he was gone before standing up and leaving herself. She had work to do.

********

They brought Jester to where the wounded, guards and civilians alike, were gathered, and she did what she could for them with magic, and when the magic ran out, with bandages and salves. There were children there, some hurt, some freshly orphaned, some just plain _scared_ , and she told them stories about tiny unicorns no bigger than her palm and baby griffons made of clouds and for a few moments they weren’t as sad or scared or they were distracted from their pain. Even the adults, those hurt and those tending to the wounded like she was, seemed to be listening, taken in by her tales.

Jester lost all track of time, and it was only when she felt a hand on her arm and looked up at Watchmaster Bryce standing next to her that she realized that she was ravenous and that breakfast had probably long since come and gone.

“I think you have done enough for today. More than enough. Come, I will walk you out.”

Jester and the Watchmaster stepped out into the open air, which smelled of smoke and burnt wood. They took a deep breath and sighed, looking very tired indeed. “There is so much to do.”

Jester nodded. “I wish I could do more.”

The Watchmaster shook their head. “You’ve done plenty today, truly, and I cannot begin to thank you for it. Are you a bard, by any chance? Your stories were quite engaging.”

“Me? Oh no, I’m not a bard. I just like to talk a lot, that’s all, and it’s fun to make up little stories.”

“Hmmm. Well, no matter. You should go back to your companions. I will be seeing you all later this morning, I trust?”

“I can’t speak for everyone,” Jester said. “But I’ll be there.” She realized this was true. Even if the others decided not to help, though she knew they all would, even Caleb who said he was scared of everything, she would be there.

“Then go well,” Watchmaster Bryce said. “And I shall see you later.”

On the way back to the tavern, Jester mulled over what the Watchmaster had said to her. “I don’t know,” she said out loud. “ A bard? What do you think?”

There was no sign the Traveler was listening, unless the birds singing was a sign, but that was probably coincidence. Did hummingbirds sing? She’d have to ask Molly.

*********

“Good morning!” Jester called as she walked into the tavern, striding over to her friend’s table with her best smile on.

“Is it?” Molly asked innocently, as if he hadn’t been talking to her hours before.

“It is!” Jester replied, sitting next to him.

“There was no pastry to speak of, but I have saved you a dubious muffin,” Molly said, presenting it. “I am not sure why it’s gray, and I have been assured that the blue spots are blueberries.”

“I ate one,” Nott said. “And it didn’t kill me!”

“I’m not sure that’s a ringing endorsement,” Caleb said, book in one hand and toast in the other. “She will eat most anything. I recommend the eggs or the porridge or the toast, all of which are the colors they are supposed to be and actually taste decent.”

Jester poked at the baked good with one finger and decided not to risk it, not when she had no more healing magic left to her until the morning. “You can have mine, Nott.”

The goblin girl barely waited until Jester had finished speaking to devour it. “Thank you, Jester. I’m so hungry. There’s no bacon, the gnolls took it all.”

“Don’t worry, Nott, we’re going to go kill the gnolls and then there will be bacon for everyone!” Jester proclaimed. “But not bacon made of gnolls, because that would be gross.” She looked at Fjord. “We _are_ going to help hunt down the gnolls, right? I mean, I am going regardless. But it’d be more fun if everyone came.”

“That’s what we were discussing, yes,” Fjord said. “We don’t see any reason not to.”

“Besides our possible untimely death,” Beau piped up. “But I mean, we get to fight things and be paid, so that’s a win/win in my book. And Jester can keep us alive, right?”

“I shall do my best,” Jester said with confidence.

“That’s all we’re asking of you,” Fjord said.

“See, told you so,” Molly said with a smirk.

“Oh! That didn’t remind me, but it totally did. Molly, do hummingbirds sing?”

“Well, they hum, don’t they? It’s in the name.”

“That’s their wings that do that,” Caleb said. “They fly so fast that their wings make that sound, it’s not like singing. I think hummingbirds squeak.”

“Oh! That _actually_ reminded me! Caleb, can you turn Frumpkin into a hummingbird?”

“…..What?”

Everybody laughed, and, much to Jester’s surprise, Caleb actually smiled, just for a second.

Jester grinned. Now it was a _great_ morning.


End file.
